No Bandage Can Mend These Parts
by Vita Fidens
Summary: Sequel to "It's Woven in My Soul, I Need to Let You Go." Dean Ambrose always comes back to Liz Moore. How will he handle one of the worst betrayals of his life? Can Liz help heal his soul? More importantly, will she survive the attempt? Rated M: Sex, violence, language
1. Chapter 1

I didn't know what to expect when I finally made it to the seedy motel in a, frankly, terrifying part of Cincinnati. Stepping over a gentleman with a needle in his arm and a blissful expression on his face, I knocked on the door to Dean's room.

I heard a loud crash from inside the room and said a quick prayer. He opened the door and I immediately saw the trouble I was in.

Glazed eyes, weaving while standing, and bloody knuckles. He was drunk and violently pissed off. I had expected that, but seeing him and having those suspicions confirmed only caused a hot bolt of fear to strike my spine.

This was not going to be at all easy, or enjoyable in any way.

"Hey," I said, trying to keep my voice light. I wanted to act completely normal, in spite of the obvious oddity of this situation we found ourselves in.

He didn't say anything, but he did step aside to let me into the room.

I wasn't sure if I felt relieved when he shut the door and shut out the madness behind us, or if I was nervous about being shut in with his madness.

He pointedly ignored me, sitting on the bed and popping the top on another beer. I sat on the other bed in the room, watching him closely while he watched the television with eyes that obviously weren't seeing anything.

"Are you all right?" I asked gently.

He sighed and glanced over at me. "You said you weren't going to talk."

I snapped my mouth shut and nodded. He kept his eyes on me for a few minutes before turning back to the TV. "Grab a beer and come here," he finally said, patting the bed beside him. He still wouldn't look at me, but at least he wasn't being entirely unfriendly.

I did as I was told, sitting gingerly beside him. He took the bottle from my hand and popped the top for me, handing it back. I gratefully took several glugs, praying once again for the strength and wisdom to get through this without fucking the situation up even further.

Suddenly, he yanked me down onto the bed beside him and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I managed to not spill my beer, but only barely.

"When I said 'come here,' I didn't mean sit beside me like I had leprosy," he said quietly in my ear. "You want to comfort me, Elizabeth? Be here with me." He squeezed my shoulder tightly, and all I could do was nod in response.

"Why are you so scared?" He breathed, inundating me with the sour scent of beer.

"I'm scared for you, not of you," I replied.

He laughed bitterly. "I lost you. I lost the _reason_ I lost you. I've been lied to, dragged through the muck, lost my mind, and I have absolutely nothing to show for it. Why on earth would you be scared for me?"

"You don't have to be a dick," I said before I could help it. I immediately regretted the words. Of all the times to lose my stupid temper, I had to do it now.

He surprised me by laughing again. "You're right; I don't. I'm sorry Lizzy. I'm just a drunken asshole tonight."

"You've earned that much. I won't take offense to what you say."

"I don't want to say anything," he muttered, scowling. "I just want to sit here and get drunk off my ass and pass the fuck out."

"That's fine, too," I replied, grateful that was all he wanted.

"Thanks for your fucking permission," he snapped, draining the last of his bottle and climbing to his feet unsteadily.

Oh yes. This was going to be an evening I would remember for a very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of our night was relatively silent. Dean eventually passed out, his head slowly dropping down on to my shoulder. After I was certain he was asleep, I gently dislodged myself and put his head on the pillow, taking the half-empty beer from his hand and placing it on the small table in the corner of the room.

I hesitated a few minutes before I pulled his shoes off and threw a blanket over him. I didn't want to press my luck and wake him back up, but it seemed that my fears in that regard were unfounded – he slept easily through the whole process.

Finally, with a small sigh and a larger yawn, I texted Paul to keep him updated. 'He's ok. Angry and drunk, passed out now. Will try to get him somewhere safe tomorrow. Not sure if it'll work, but I'll try.'

I didn't wait for a response before I put the phone to silent and slid into the other bed. The silence had been draining, and I was exhausted.

I didn't sleep long before I woke up to the bed moving beside me.

I sat up immediately, my fist pulled back. "Just me," Dean muttered, gently shoving my shoulders so that I lay back down.

"Everything ok?" He didn't answer immediately, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Dean?" I prompted, lightly touching his arm.

"Can I sleep with you?" He surprised me by asking. "I always…." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"You always sleep better with me," I finished for him. "Yes, you can."

He glanced back at me for a moment; his eyes surprisingly clear in spite of his intoxication. He shook his head again before standing up and pulling his pants and shirt off. I turned my back to him, swallowing hard. I knew that no good was going to come of this. I knew that things were going to wind up even messier than they already were.

But goddamnit, I still wanted him with me. When he pressed his warm chest against my back, his arm wrapping tightly around my midsection…it felt right.

I hated that it did, but I also couldn't deny that fact.

We both dropped into sleep quickly, no words passing between us. I felt a bit comforted with the knowledge that he was going to be all right. It was going to be a nasty battle to get him there, but I truly thought that everything was eventually going to work out.

I woke up to a disgustingly bright light streaming in through the gap in the dirty curtains.

It took me several seconds to register what was going on, but when I realized that there was a hand in my panties and a mouth on my neck, my eyes flew open and my head turned.

Dean stared down at me blandly, propped on one elbow.

"I know I don't have any right," he murmured, his voice gravelly. "I'll stop if you want me to."

I paused for a few heartbeats, an internal war raging in my head and heart. God help me, I didn't want him to stop. I slowly shook my head.

His lips crushed down onto mine immediately, his fingers picking up their pace. I was rather wet, and I realized that he must have been touching me for quite some time. Without conscious thought, I reached down to stroke him. He was already hard, and began lightly throbbing when my hand wrapped around him.

"Do you know how badly I need you?" He growled, shoving my hand away and climbing on top of me. "Do you understand how desperate I am for this?"

He didn't give me a chance to answer, bending down to kiss me and sinking his teeth into my lower lip while he yanked my panties off. Pausing only for a few moments to tease the head of his cock through my wet lips, he plunged all the way inside of me with his lips still clamped to mine.

"I can't be sweet, Lizzy," he gasped, finally pulling away and moving roughly. "Not right now. I can't. I can't."

I suddenly understood. I grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled his mouth down to mine. "Shut up and fuck me," I snarled as I shoved his face away.

The relief in his eyes amazed me. I had a split second to feel good about what I was doing for him before he wound his hand in my hair and yanked my head back painfully, exposing my neck to his teeth.

He didn't bite hard, but I knew that I would have some marks to try to explain.

His hand gripped my breast painfully while he thrust into me violently. Thankfully, it didn't take him long at all to have an intense orgasm, his breath hitching in my ear and his body twitching on top of mine.

After a few still moments, he rolled off of me and rested flat on his back. We didn't say anything. After a fashion, he sat up and went searching for his cigarettes. Lighting one up, he glanced over at me.

"Let's get the fuck out of this dump," he said with the cigarette clinched between his teeth.


	3. Chapter 3

I drove while he chain smoked in the passenger seat.

He hadn't given me any indication on where to go, so I started in the direction of Stamford. At least in my apartment there weren't any addicts to step over on the way to the bathroom. He could stay with me and drink himself into a stupor if he wanted.

I tried not to think of much beyond driving. Dean hadn't opened up to me yet. I expected he might in the next few days, but right now I didn't know how much he knew. As a result, I didn't know how to go about comforting him. If he knew about everything – Sheamus and Becky, the fact that he wasn't the father of that child – he was more than likely just pissed off. If he didn't know, I was sure he was broken-hearted on top of being angry. If he didn't know…that meant I would probably have to tell him.

I didn't relish that idea at all. It wouldn't bring him relief in the short-term; it would only give him something new to be livid about.

After two hours of driving, I pulled into the parking lot of a dusty diner. Dean glanced at me curiously.

"Pancakes," was all I said. He shrugged and unbuckled his seatbelt.

We went in and maintained our silence until we both had steaming mugs of coffee in front of us.

"Thanks," he said, so low that I didn't hear him at first. He glanced up at me through a curtain of hair. "Thank you for coming all the way out here," he said a bit more clearly.

I nodded. "Don't mention it." We stared at each other for a few minutes. "Do you feel like talking about it yet?"

He bit his lower lip, glancing away for a moment before shaking his head.

"I understand," I said slowly, trying to figure out how to phrase this next part. "I hope that you'll feel up to it soon," I finally elected to say. "I think it will help."

His eyes met mine again. "_You_ help."

I managed a small smile. "That's good to hear."

He surprised me by reaching across the table and taking my hand. I didn't pull back, but my heart started racing in my throat.

"You're the best woman I've ever known, Lizzy," he said solemnly.

I swallowed around the hard lump that had suddenly formed in my throat. I tried to laugh it off. "Me, with my short temper and caustic tongue? I'm so sorry that I'm the best woman you've known."

"Don't do that," he sighed, shaking his head with obvious agitation. "Let's try, just for today, to keep the bullshit to a minimum, all right?"

"All right," I agreed. "Thank you for saying that," I added after a moment. "It means a lot to me."

"You're welcome," he said, his eyes staring deeply into mine. It made me uncomfortable after a few seconds and I looked away, fussing with my shirt in order to try to gain my composure.

He surprised me by laughing. It wasn't exactly amused, but it was laughter. "I'm sorry, Liz. I guess I'm not good company today."

"And you're usually just so charming," I teased, glancing up at him. He managed to grin at me.

"You sometimes thought so."

"Sometimes," I conceded.

He stared at me again for a few moments before sighing. "What are we going to do?" He asked, squeezing my hand. I'd never seen his eyes fill with such sadness.

My mouth suddenly felt dry, and I struggled to reply. "What do you want to do?"

He studied me intently. "I'm not sure," he finally said slowly. "I need some time to think about it."

"Take all the time you need," I replied, relieved to see our waitress coming back. I slid my hand away from his and placed it in my lap.

I'd never been happier to see a plate of pancakes in my life.


	4. Chapter 4

We drove for several more hours in total silence. Dean would occasionally stare at me thoughtfully before shaking his head and turning back to stare out the window. I wouldn't even pretend to know what was going on inside his head during those moments.

"Let's stop," he surprised me by saying as the sun set.

"For dinner?"

"For the night. We could both use some sleep."

I shrugged. I personally felt fine, and wanted to continue on for the next few hours to Stamford. But it was the first thing he'd said, and we were near a major city – Harrisburg, Pennsylvania – so I figured it wouldn't hurt anything to stop.

Dean checked us in to the hotel while I went and found parking. I shouldn't have been surprised to see that he booked a room with only one bed, but I genuinely was.

The moment the door shut, he was on me. His lips pressed against mine fiercely and his arm snaked tightly around my waist while he gently drove me into the wall.

I wanted to ask him what the hell we were doing, but my mouth was otherwise occupied. He moved his head down to lightly bite my neck, his hands tugging my shirt down so he could kiss the exposed parts of my breasts, and I suddenly didn't care what his answer might be.

Instead, I wrapped both legs around his waist and pulled him close to me. He held me up, his hands tightly gripping my ass while he returned to kiss me over and over again.

We were both frantic. I knew that this was some odd form of healing for him, although I truly didn't understand how. But the way that he kissed me; that desperate, frank need…it was about more than just sex. That much was easy to see.

He pulled me away from the wall and brought me over to the bed, dumping me on my back. I watched him undress through half-lidded eyes, slowly removing my own clothing as well.

There was a brief moment of hesitation when we were both entirely undressed. He merely stared at me, his eyes roaming over every inch of my body. The expression on his face – pure hunger – knocked the breath out of my lungs.

He met my eyes and his lips curled upward into a smirk. Then, before I had a moment to think, he was on top of me and sliding inside of me.

I closed my eyes and gently gripped his arms while he moved, a soft moan escaping my lips. He bent down and kissed me, stroking his hands over my breasts and lightly teasing my nipples. In response, I arched my hips towards him and he obliged me by pushing in deeper.

I cried out, biting my lip, as an orgasm unexpectedly rushed through me. Dean rode it out with me, a small smile on his face.

After I came down, he paused for a minute. "Lizzy," he murmured, his voice deep as he brought his hand up to run back through my hair.

Reluctantly, I peeled back my eyelids and met his gaze.

"I love you," he started gently, "but I'm still no good for you. Especially not now. I don't want there to be any misunderstandings here…." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Of course, I say this as I'm fucking you. Probably not my best move."

I pulled back from him. "Obviously you want to talk," I said. "So let's just stop for a minute and talk. Tell me what's going on."

His eyes glazed over for a moment, and I was slightly concerned until he started to speak again. "Do you remember that night after you split up with fuckface? The one in Paul's house?" I nodded. "Do you remember the relief you felt sinking down on my cock that night?" I couldn't help a small smile as I nodded again.

He hesitated. "I need that now," he finally said. "I don't want your love. I can't handle it at the moment. I just want your pussy. Can you deal with that?"

I thought about his words for a few moments. "If it's going to help you, yes. I can deal with that."

His facial expression became stern. "You won't get hurt? Tell me now. We've done enough to bring pain to each other."

"Dean, you're the one who got hurt last time…not me," I reminded him. "You were the one that had a tough time with our relationship just being physical. I'll be ok."

He bent and kissed me, his tongue slipping into my mouth. Before we simply went back to screwing, I pulled back again.

"Do you want to talk about Becky?" I asked boldly. "I think we need to."

"No," he spat, anger overtaking his features. "I don't ever want to hear her name again."

"There's something I really need to know that you know. It's important, and if you don't know I should really tell –"

He bent and kissed me brutally. "Shut the fuck up, Lizzy," he murmured in my ear as he pulled away. "I said I don't want to talk about it. Not now. Not ever. So keep your fucking trap shut about that bitch. Clear?"

I sighed. "Clear," I replied with a heavy heart.

He kissed me again, his lips a bit more gentle this time. "I'm going to make you come so much that the hotel has to throw these sheets out," he murmured, his hands starting to wander over me in entirely pleasant ways.

I laughed. "Then you'd better get to work."

He did.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean drove the following morning. I was entirely too exhausted and entirely too sore. He kept glancing over at me, sprawled out and dozing in the passenger seat, and smirking.

"Think you'll feel up to it again tonight?" He asked as we neared my apartment, putting his hand on my thigh.

"Are you trying to kill me?" I teased. "I think I might need at least one night."

He laughed. "All right. I'll drop you and the car off and head to a hotel."

The words hung awkwardly in the air. "I do have a couch, you know," I said conversationally. "If you wanted to save a little bit of money," I added, trying not to let on that I wanted him to stay with me.

He shook his head. "No," he replied firmly. "I'll be fine."

"Ok," I replied, hoping I sounded casual. I didn't want to leave him alone, but I knew protesting would do me no good. He was a grown man, and this was a decision he was obviously quite set on making.

Besides, I had a few phone calls to make. They would probably best be done in private.

We arrived at my apartment an hour after this conversation. Dean pulled in to the lot and parked. Then, true to his word, he pulled out his phone and looked up a local cab company. They arranged a pick-up in fifteen minutes.

He carried my suitcase up to my door for me, pausing to light a cigarette.

"Go ahead," he nodded to my door. "I'll be fine out here."

"You can come inside."

"I know I can. I don't want to," he said dismissively, waving his hand. "I'm going to smoke out here until my ride shows up. Call me tomorrow."

I realized it would be useless to argue. "I will. Have a good night." I unlocked my door and stepped inside while he made his way back towards my car. I looked back at him as I went to shut the door and saw him leaning with his foot up on my back bumper, smoking with his arms crossed over his chest.

I took a few minutes to get settled in and then I glanced out the window to see if Dean was still there. He was, staring up at my window. He gave me a brief wave and I did the same before shutting the curtain.

I didn't want to make my calls when he was even on the property. I waited several more tense moments before I heard a car pull up. I waited until it had retreated and looked outside again. He was gone.

The first call I made was to Paul. We spoke briefly about Dean's state of mind and what I thought would happen next. I gave him most of the truth – Dean was in a bad way, but I thought he would be all right. He was pissed off and obviously hurting. I wasn't sure if he knew the truth about the baby, and he told me that he didn't _want_ to know the truth.

We discussed his return in a few weeks and if I thought he'd be ready. I considered it briefly before I told him that I thought he should return sooner rather than later – an unoccupied, angry Dean Ambrose was a bad thing for the world in its entirety. If we could channel some of that anger, and give him something else to focus on, we just might avoid a catastrophe.

Paul agreed to take it under advisement, and we hung up.

I waited several minutes before making my next phone call. This was the one I had been dreading.

"Lizzy!" A familiar Irish brogue answered happily after three rings. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"


	6. Chapter 6

"I'm really sorry," I said gently for what must have been the fiftieth time during that conversation. I just didn't know what else to say.

Sheamus had fallen silent after I'd told him the news about his child. It absolutely broke my heart to do it, but I felt that he needed to know…and I knew that Becky wouldn't say a word to him. Confirming my suspicions, in the few days since I'd found out, he mentioned that she hadn't contacted him at all.

"Did you tell Ambrose?" He suddenly asked.

"I tried," I admitted. "He told me that he didn't want to know."

"Are you…are the two of you…."

"No," I answered firmly. "I went to be there as a friend. That's all. He barely spoke to me." I paused, wondering why on earth he cared about that right now. "Are you all right?"

He went quiet. "I'm angry," he finally admitted. "I'm pissed right the fuck off. But a not-too-small part of me is also incredibly relieved. Is that wrong?"

"Given the situation, I don't think it is. Everything was very…complicated."

"To say the least. At the end of the day, I truly think it was for the best." He hesitated. "Is Dean…is he going to hurt her?"

"I'm not sure." It was something I hadn't considered, although I probably should have. "He seems more disgusted with the whole thing. He's angry, but I think if he was going to hurt her he would have done it by now. He just wants nothing to do with her."

"I can't say I blame him."

"No, I can't either," I sighed. "I wish I could tell him the truth, but I really don't know that it would do him any good."

"I don't think it would."

I managed a hollow smile. "Are you sure you're not saying that because it would save your skin, too?"

He snorted. "I'm not afraid of Ambrose coming after me, Lizzy. He doesn't scare me. I can take care of myself. I'm worried about him going after people who can't or won't defend themselves."

I could hear the pointed admonishment in his tone and elected to ignore it. He might seem steady right now, but I realized that I had probably thrown him completely for a loop with my phone call. I needed to cut him a little bit of slack.

"Fair enough," I replied, a sizable yawn sneaking up on me. "Sorry."

"Exhausting few days for you, I'd imagine."

"They weren't easy," I acknowledged.

"Why don't you get some sleep? We can catch up when you're back. When are you back, anyway?"

"Soon. I'd imagine I won't be any longer than two more days."

"Good," he replied firmly. I wouldn't even pretend to know what he was thinking. "Rest up. We'll see each other soon. And, Lizzy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for telling me. I know that you probably didn't want to do it, but I appreciate hearing it from you rather than through the rumor mill."

I managed a small smile. "That's why I called you. I'm really sorry for the news. Please let me know if you need anything, all right?"

He fell quiet for a few moments, and I found myself slightly worried about the offer that had unexpectedly tumbled out of my mouth. Stupid reflexive manners. "I will," he finally answered, allowing relief to flood through me.

I wasn't sure just what Sheamus had in mind, but I knew that it was more than likely something I wouldn't be willing to give just yet.

I said goodbye, hung up, and immediately collapsed into bed.


	7. Chapter 7

I shuffled through my kitchen, feeling a bit more human than I had when I'd arrived home yesterday. Yawning heartily, I put on a pot of coffee.

My phone rang and pulled me partially out of my stupor. Paul.

"What's up?" I answered, hearing the sleep still in my voice.

"I want you back today. You and Ambrose both."

I blinked a few times. "Ok," I replied slowly. "Uh…where are we today?"

"St. Louis. When can you get here?"

"Probably won't be until later," I admitted. "We're in Stamford. Give me an hour to get Ambrose together and book us a flight. I'll know more after that."

I called Ambrose, marginally more awake.

"Lizzy," he answered, laughing. "Your timing is impeccable. I was just thinking about doing dirty, terrible things to you."

"Well you'd better knock it off. We're being summoned to St. Louis ASAP. Get packed and get over here so we can head to LaGuardia and catch a plane."

He groaned. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. Paul apparently has plans for us on the show tonight."

"They're not nearly as fun as my plans for us are."

I managed a small smile. "While I believe that whole-heartedly, I also like being employed. Let's try to keep it that way."

"Can I induct you into the mile-high club on the way?" He asked, a small note of teasing in his voice.

I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. "Shut up and get over here."

"Oh baby, you know I love it when you talk to me like that."

"Then hurry," I said in my most seductive voice. "And make sure you're packed."

We hung up, and I went to look for flights with a smile on my face. He sounded almost normal, and I found myself relieved.

The earliest flight I could book us on was at one in the afternoon. We'd get to St. Louis, with the time change, by two. Barring any major catastrophes, we could be at the arena by three. I called Paul back and relayed this message, and he seemed satisfied enough.

I was just pulling out my suitcase to throw clean clothes in it when Dean showed up. He didn't bother knocking or announcing his presence in any way, he simply walked back into my bedroom.

"How long until we leave?"

I jumped, startled by his sudden appearance, and paused in my packing. I glanced at my alarm clock – it was only seven-thirty. "Flight leaves at one, we should get to the airport by eleven, it'll take us an hour to get there…we should leave here at about ten."

His eyes raked over me, in my short shorts and tank top. "Good," he said, smiling wickedly as he met my eyes.

My heart started pounding in my chest, but I wasn't necessarily afraid.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked slowly.

His smile became wider, and his tongue snaked through his teeth. "Everything," he answered.


	8. Chapter 8

'Everything,' as it turned out, involved handcuffs.

Unlike during our previous interactions, they didn't bother me. I guessed it had something to do with me willingly presenting him my arms rather than simply waking up with them on.

He clicked them shut behind my back and then his hands immediately found my breasts, his fingers pinching and tugging at my nipples while his mouth wandered to my neck.

"You turn me on so fucking much," he murmured, his mouth moving up to my ear to tease the lobe with his tongue. "I can hardly stand it."

I craned my neck back and kissed him passionately, pushing my hips back into his erection and gently rolling them to rub him without my hands. I was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath as he pulled his face back to watch me move against him.

I could feel him getting harder, and I suddenly wanted him in my mouth. It was something I'd done very rarely – he was usually more focused on actual intercourse and would push me away whenever I went to do it. I had a feeling he wouldn't today.

I was right.

I turned and knelt in front of him, taking him deep into my mouth. He groaned and wound his hands in my hair, pulling it away from my face. I glanced up and saw him watching me intently, so I gave him a bit of a show – maintaining eye contact while I took him as far as I could, letting my tongue snake out of my mouth and swirl around him every so often.

I could feel him start to throb in my mouth and realized it wouldn't be long until he came. He must have had the same realization, because he wrenched away from me. He stared at me for a few minutes, breathing hard, before he picked me up by my elbows and tossed me on the bed.

"My turn," he murmured as he climbed on top of me. He paused on his way down to flick my nipples with his tongue a few times each before his face was buried between my thighs.

"I guess sucking my dick really turned you on," he said after a minute, glancing up at me with a smirk. I merely smiled at him in response, and he went back to what he'd been doing.

I was on the verge of a very intense orgasm when he stopped and pulled away. He flipped me on to my stomach and pulled my hips up, sinking his still-hard cock completely inside of me.

It was all I needed to push me over the edge, and I pushed my face in the pillow to keep from disturbing my neighbors.

When I came down, Dean was still completely inside of me. "I love it when you coat my dick in cum," he said, his voice just a little ragged. "It makes me want to fill you with mine."

"So do it," I said, pushing back to take him even deeper.

I was half-surprised to feel a stern slap hit my backside. "You don't give the orders here, Elizabeth," he replied firmly. "Have you forgotten who's in charge? Do I need to remind you?"

"You might," I answered, feeling my engorged clit start to throb.

He chuckled breathlessly and grabbed me by the hair, yanking my head back. He began slamming into me brutally.

"Are you going to come for me, you stupid slut?" He snarled in my ear, his free hand wrapping around me to play with my clit.

"No," I answered, although my panting voice must have given it away. He tugged at my hair angrily.

"Don't lie to me, bitch. I can feel your pussy getting wetter and tighter. Your clit's nice and swollen, hard and throbbing beneath my fingers. You're going to explode on my cock, aren't you?"

"No," I repeated, and he slapped my ass again, much harder this time.

He chuckled. "I felt your pussy clench my cock when I did that," he said conversationally. "You love this, don't you? You lied to me all that time ago."

I bit my lip, and he slapped me again. "Tell me," he commanded.

"Yes," I finally admitted, gasping. "I love this. I lied."

He paused in his thrusting and stroking. "Good girl," he said soothingly. "How do you want to come?"

"I want you to use your tongue," I replied immediately.

Almost as soon as the words left my mouth, I felt him move away from me and, within seconds, he was pulling me down onto his face.

It only took him a few seconds of frantic licking, followed by a little bit of sucking, for me to sit up and ride his face while one of the most intense orgasms of my life ripped through me.

I had barely finished when I found myself on my back and Dean sliding inside of me. A good portion of his face around his mouth and chin was glistening from me, and he wasted no time bending and rubbing his face all over mine while he kissed me roughly.

I bit his lower lip, and he gave me a light slap. His hand trailed down and very gently wrapped around my neck while he continued thrusting wildly. I probably should have been afraid, but I trusted that he wouldn't hurt me.

I was right, thankfully.

His hand started to flex as he neared his orgasm, and he slid it away from my neck.

"Dean," I moaned, feeling the pressure building in my pelvis.

"I'm here, baby," he panted, bending down to kiss me.

We rocked back and forth together, our movements punctuated by soft moans. I met his eyes just as a haze of pleasure fell over them and knew that he wasn't going to last much longer. I was surprised, then, when I came before him.

He felt my body let go and he almost immediately let go himself, filling me with spurt after spurt of his hot cum. I don't think I'd ever experienced an orgasm of his that was as intense.

He collapsed on top of me, still inside of me. We were still for a minute, and then he began dotting my neck and face with soft kisses.

He pulled away and met my eyes for a moment, something obviously wanting to come out of his mouth. But he stopped himself, shook his head, and merely kissed me again.


	9. Chapter 9

I was incredibly grateful to see that I had time for a shower. I was sweaty and an absolute mess. Gently dislodging myself, I turned and let Dean pull the handcuffs off.

I was only mildly surprised when he followed me into the shower. We were both too worn out to actually do anything else, but time was of the essence.

"Why didn't you ever tell me you enjoyed that kind of sex?" He asked as he vigorously shampooed his hair.

"I didn't know," I replied, focusing on shampooing myself. "All the other times, it wasn't exactly consensual."

He nodded slowly, his eyes far away. "Fair point."

We fell silent for a short while, focusing on cleaning up. When we were finally done and I reached to turn off the water, he gently grabbed my hand and pulled me into his arms.

We stood there for a few minutes, holding each other until he pulled back and kissed me. "I love you, Lizzy," he said, but he sounded troubled.

I managed a small smile. "Why does that worry you?"

"You know why. Don't pretend you don't."

"Because you're worried about hurting me and hurting yourself?" He nodded slowly. I swallowed hard and said what had been on my mind. "Dean, we've been there and done that," I continued gently. "And we still find ourselves here. We always find ourselves here." I paused, and I could see his jaw clench. I realized that I shouldn't push him now. "That's all I'll say. You make the decision that you feel is best, all right? I'm not going anywhere. I love you too, you know."

"I know," he replied in a tone that obviously stated 'drop it.'

I dropped it.

We had an uneventful drive to LaGuardia and wound up bored out of our minds waiting for our flight. Nearly the minute we boarded and sat down, I fell fast asleep.

I woke up as we were getting ready to land, unsurprised to notice that Dean had pulled me down onto his shoulder and was cradling my hand in his.

He looked as if he expected me to say something about it, but I didn't. I knew better than to try and push him right now. He was going to make whatever decision he was going to make, and in the end I had very little that I could do to influence him. If he did what he thought was right, his decision would be solid. If he felt manipulated in any way, he'd constantly question it and change his mind over and over again.

I was tired of the constant questioning. I wanted a solid decision, one way or the other. I did love Dean, more than I had probably loved any other person in the world, and I wanted to be with him. But one of the many things life had taught me was that you couldn't be in a relationship, you couldn't be totally committed, all by yourself. You needed the other person's commitment as well. And if he couldn't or wouldn't give it, there was no point in banging my head against the wall trying to make it work.

All of these musings lasted throughout our drive to the arena, where we were split up almost immediately upon arrival. Paul threw me into scheduling work while he walked Dean through the plans for his return this evening.

"Back already, Lizzy?" A familiar voice asked as the chair next to me suddenly filled up.

I looked up, startled, and smiled at Sheamus. "Paul needed me back earlier than I expected," I replied. "How are you doing?"

"Fair," he answered, his blue eyes sober in spite of the smile on his face. "I tried calling her last night. She screeched at me and hung up the phone. I don't believe I'll be trying again."

"I can't say that I blame you."

"I'll be glad to just put this whole thing behind me," he admitted, running a hand back through his spiky hair and mussing it even further. "As I'm sure you'll be."

"Yeah. It'll be nice to not see her around anymore. I just hope she stays gone, you know?"

"I think she will." He surprised me by wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "How are you holding up?"

"Me?" I asked, surprised. "I'm fine. A little tired, but generally ok." I glanced over at him, curious.

He smiled. "Would you have a drink with me tonight?" He sounded nervous, and it was incredibly endearing. I quickly ran through all of the ways I could politely say no, but someone beat me to it.

"Get your hands off of her," a voice growled very low near us. I closed my eyes. Oh shit.

Turning my head, I saw Dean standing in the doorway to the room we were sitting in, his fists balled up angrily by his sides.

Sheamus gently slid his hand away, holding both of them up in a peaceful gesture. "Not trying to step on any toes, mate. Lizzy said you were just friends."

Dean glanced at me, the anger apparent in his eyes. But I didn't back down. That was what he had told me.

"I know what you did," he said, stepping towards Sheamus. "I know you fucked my girlfriend, while she was pregnant with _my _child. I know you had a part in her disgusting plan to bring Lizzy to me. You have no right to touch her now. So back off."

I barely heard anything after 'my child.' He didn't know. Son of a bitch. I winced and closed my eyes.

"It wasn't yours, mate," Sheamus said before I could stop him.

My heart dropped into my shoes.


	10. Chapter 10

"What?" Dean asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Wasn't your kid. Was mine."

Dean looked at me, incredulous, and I had to look away. "_You knew_?" He bellowed, reaching for me angrily.

Sheamus moved quickly, stepping in between the two of us. "She tried to tell you," he snarled, grabbing Dean's arms and pulling them painfully behind his back. "You didn't want to listen. She tried, and you told her to shut up. Do you really think this is _her _fault?"

The way Dean strained against Sheamus's grip to try and reach me, I could tell that he did.

"Sheamus, it's all right," I said, standing up and lightly touching his arm. The venom in Dean's eyes told me that I'd just made yet another stupid mistake.

"Dean," I said slowly, pulling my hand away from Sheamus, "I am so sorry. I wanted to tell you, and I tried…that night, in the hotel. You said you never wanted me to talk about it. I should have pushed the subject, I know. But I didn't want to hurt you any more than you already were. It was stupid, and I don't blame you for being angry with me."

Dean slowly relaxed, although his eyes were still flashing.

"All right, Liz," he finally answered, his voice controlled. "I understand."

I nodded to Sheamus, who let Dean go. Big mistake on my part, as he came for me and clamped his hands tightly around my throat.

Sheamus yanked him off of me, and then the brawl started. It had been brewing for such a long time now, and I was amazed that no one wound up leaving in a body bag.

Thankfully, we weren't alone backstage. I dissuaded anyone who tried to interfere right away – they both needed to do this. Once I saw blood start flowing, I allowed the other guys to break it up.

Paul came in, a vein bulging in his forehead. He almost started yelling, but I grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him into the office.

"My fault," I told him. "Send me home. Dean can't be around me right now."

"Liz, I need you," he said, his face going ashen.

"Let me work at home or I quit," I replied easily. "He's pissed off, Paul. He's hurt and he's scared and I am doing nobody a damn bit of good here. This needs to stop."

After a few minutes, he nodded. "Get out of here."

"I'll work at the hotel tonight," I replied, handing him the mostly-completed schedule. "E-mail me the stuff for the next show and I'll have it back to you by the morning."

"How long are we going to have to do it this way?" He asked, his voice resigned.

"As long as it takes."


	11. Sequel

Thank you all for reading, reviewing, following, tweeting, favoriting, messaging, and all the ways you reach out to me. This series has been amazingly fun for me to write, and part of me wishes that it could go on forever!

The last installment is posted under the title "A Thousand Broken Wings." I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for reading!


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